


The Day The Radio Went Silent

by IHearttheHitachiinTwins



Series: Yandere Angel Dust [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Bloodletting, Dark, Demons, Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), M/M, Magic, Mentions of Murder, Needles, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Self-Harm, Suicide, Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHearttheHitachiinTwins/pseuds/IHearttheHitachiinTwins
Summary: Angel wanted to be part of Alastor, he couldn't bear it any longer. To be a meal for his Alastor, to provide him with everything Angel could offer, his whole being. That was all he needed, all he wanted.The flow of blood was addictive, Alastor's praise even more so.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Yandere Angel Dust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935844
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	The Day The Radio Went Silent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelsGuts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsGuts/gifts).



> Dedicated to @Candywebs on tumblr, One of two brilliant sources of inspiration for me right now. Angel's fate after the events of "The Voice in the Radio". 
> 
> Please mind the tags, this ain't a hollywood ending.

Angel wanted Alastor to consume him. 

This was not new. Ever since he had first heard Alastor’s voice, he’d wanted to be closer than the radio would allow. Closer than his skin would allow. Anything other than completely and unequivocally  _ part of him _ had always felt like too little. Always longing, always lacking. Then, on that first day Alastor had eaten his blood, Angel had known that was what he wanted. More than anything. He wanted Alastor to devour him, for the radio and the static and Alastor’s charming voice to take him and feed off him. It was only a matter of time, but before that could happen Alastor needed to eat a lot more than Angel alone could offer, so Angel brought him meals to tide over the desperate need to feed Alastor with his body and be one with him. The few drops of blood he fed Alastor each day before feeding him whatever creature he’d secured to sacrifice worked to tide him over, but he knew it wasn’t what he wanted.

Since he had fed Alastor his husband, since Angel had seen the red mist feed and feed and feed until, there was nothing left…

His dreams had become vivid, the cravings intense. 

He wondered if his blood tasted different to Alastor. If he could tell what blood was his. Alastor had never said anything on the matter, and Angel had no way to ask. Still, he doubted that Alastor would  _ object _ to more....

He scratched lightly at his wrists. His blood felt like it was burning. Like it wanted to get out. Perhaps it wanted to go to Alastor as much as he wanted it to go to him. He nibbled on his lip and leaned against the radio lovingly. Alastor was talking about how to cut a steak out of a human heart. Angel felt like it was  _ his _ heart being cut up. 

The slicing pain was euphoric.

~~~

Angel brought syringes the next day.

Sold some of his jewelry. The sapphire ones, Alastor didn’t like blue, and bought more needles than even a self respecting drug addict would be able to use. The man at the store had given him a look, but hadn’t stopped him when he’d overpaid by miles and made his way out the door.

Angel was giddy with excitement. He couldn’t wait to get home. Back to Alastor. To finally indulge in giving Alastor more than just a few measly drops of himself.

He hurried in, not caring if he tracked mud through the house, and knelt before the radio. It was playing some soft jazz tune and Angel let the music caress him as he set everything down and got ready. One of his husband’s belts made a tourniquet as he found his vein. He knew how to do this after a few experiments with cocaine while he still lived with his family. He hadn’t liked the process much, but he was glad for the experience now.

He slowly, religiously, pulled the plunger and watched the needle fill with crimson liquid. The song playing glitched and faded into static as it filled.

_ My morsel, I sense… What are you doing? _

Angel waited until the needle was full before pulling it out of his arm. He barely remembered to slap a plaster on it before pulling out the cap and pouring the blood into his cupped hands. 

He thrust the offering in the direction of the radio eagerly. It was silent a few seconds, like it was processing, before a soft hiss of static started up like a purr. Red mist seemed from the speakers and curled around his hands, collecting the blood from them.

_ Oh, what a treat. How caring you are, my dearest. What have I done to deserve such kindness? _

Angel wanted to tell Alastor that he didn’t need to do anything. That he would do it again and again, gladly, until he was drained dry. He knew Alastor couldn’t hear him though, so instead he watched fondly as he let the mist lap over his hands, drawing off the blood staining his palms crimson, letting not a drop go to waste.

~~~

And so it was that the drops of blood Angel gave at the beginning of each day became a vial’s worth. Drawing the blood hurt, but at the same time was so, so worth it. Alastor crooned and flattered as he took it. His wrists were a mess of track marks, but he didn’t care. As if his physical health could mean anything in the face of serving Alastor. Giving him anything would be worth Angel’s life one-hundred times over.

One vial a day became two, soon becoming three. The wounds on his wrist were always leaking a little, but Alastor lapped them up like a starving kitten and praised his devotion.

Alastor told him how rich his blood was. How savory. How delicious.

_ It’s my favorite.  _

He said, radio alive with what Angel hopes is joy. He hoped he gave Alastor joy.

_ My darling morsel, my precious lamb. You have a place unrivaled in my heart. _

The words made Angel’s blood sing.

~~~

_ Please, my dearest… The hunger... _

He got better with the needles, learned to draw the blood faster, but it always felt so excruciatingly slow, especially with Alastor humming with anticipation beside him. He’d been insistent today. After three vials of Angel’s blood, two cats and a nest of rats, he was still not sated. Angel had a needle in his veins and already the red mist creeped up his arms, like it was begging him. Alastor couldn’t get at the blood until it was out of the needle and Angel couldn’t help but feel that there must be a better way, a faster way….

His eyes landed on the knife he used to kill the animals.

He finished with the needle and offered it’s contents to Alastor, who was barely done with it before the mist was hungrily looking for more. At the exit wound, tugging at the blood welling out. The static hissed as the blood came in trickles.

_ My dearest, my morsel, please…. I need more. I know I ask too much, I know I push you, but please… _

Angel’s hand tightened around the knife.

“Not too much.” He mumbled, event though Alastor couldn't hear him. “Not for you. I’d do anything for you…”

He began to cut.

It stung, it hurt, but the noise Alastor made when the blood began to flow in earnest was almost sensual. Not one single drop hit the ground. Angel felt a thrill up his spine and into his brain like a shot of euphoria, so intense and dizzying he felt like he was floating.

_ Such generosity today, dearest… What’s the occasion? Even your kindness must know bounds, surely? A creature with your goodness couldn’t exist. Enduring through the world’s hardships, you would have to be a miracle. _

Alastor’s words drove him forwards, as if someone else held the knife. Soon enough it almist stopped hurting, Angel focused on the pleasure. They were all just shallow cuts, easy to bandage and clean, nothing damaging even though Angel’s every nerve screamed to go deeper, slice in deeper and give Alastor more, give him everything…

_ Thank you my darling. That was exquisite. How good you are to me, so delicious… _

The praise cut Angel open better than the knife. He felt like he was going to cry, caught up in a whirlwind of sudden and acute pleasure. His eyes burned and stung, and the red mist curled up his face like it was cupping his cheek.

_ Don’t cry, dearest. You’ve done so well. So very well. _

It was all so worth it.

~~~

The temptation of the pleasure was a heavy weight on Angel’s mind. 

The knife went from a last resort for Alastor’s hungry days to the first thing Angel went for. The needles suddenly felt so slow, so inadequate. Why had he ever thought that a few drops, a few vials, would ever be enough for Alastor? Alastor who could devour a human in minutes, sated with a few bottles of blood? Stupid.

This was much better.

He was safe with it, cleaned and bandaged his wounds, never cut to the vein despite the temptation. Alastor needed him whole, even though all he wanted to do was sacrifice any and all he had.

This went on for days, weeks, and slowly Alastor grew in strength, even though Angel brought fewer and fewer live meals. The rats stayed away these days. All the pets in the area had been killed. People would notice if anyone else went missing. Angel had to go further and further afield if he wanted to bring something home, and every second away from the radio was like a lance in his heart. Near intolerable.

_ It’s not your fault my dearest, I know you do your best, you give me enough. You are always enough for me. _

Alastor must know somehow, even though Angel wasn’t able to defend himself. Alastor was clever like that. But still Angel felt like a failure. He bled to make up for it.

_ Your blood is so much richer than anything else. I could live on you.  _

It was if Alastor’s words guided his hands. The mist hung around him like a shroud, pulling from wherever Angel decided to cut. Stomach, legs, arms. It was times like this that Angel felt closer to Alastor than he had ever been, like Alastor was breathing him in. Lapping him up and keeping him safe inside.

The radio played love songs in Alastor’s voice and Angel bled and bled and bled.

~~~

Angel knew something was… Different today. He woke from sleeping in front of the radio, and the air felt heavy. The humid, southern air was usually thick, but today it was different. Like the air was denser somehow. The air had a coppery tang to it, and it felt electric. When Angel was seven he’d been mere feet away from a lightning strike, and afterwards the air had felt wild and charged. This was like that, even though the sky was clear, no lightning in sight.

_ Good morning, sweetheart. _

Alastor said, and his voice sounded different. There was less interference to it. Like Alstor was… Closer.

_ I hope you slept well. _

Angel scooted closer to the radio, enraptured by the sudden clarity. What did this mean? This newfound strength? The red mist swirled through his hair and it felt like soft fingers carding through it.

_ Can you feel it? It’s a big day! _

Angel nodded, because he  _ could _ feel it. Something big would happen today. But first Alastor needed to eat. He grabbed the knife and his hands didn’t shake as he reopened his barely scabbed wounds. The mist descended on the cuts like a swarm of hungry birds on breadcrumbs, thick and heady, it seemed brighter than before. Angel realised the whole world seemed to be bright and in high contrast. Colourful and hazed red at the same time.

_ I must ask much of you today, my dearest. Today I will need you to go further than ever before, and then… Then we can finally meet. _

Angel jolted at that and the knife slipped. The blood spilled, but he knew that it wouldn't go to waste. 

This was it? This was the day? He could feel himself shaking, not with fear but excitement.

No more holding back.

Alastor was finally asking for and accepting all of him. 

Angel was dizzy with it. With the honour, with the pleasure. The cold bite of the knife felt like a lover’s touch. And he dove in with renewed vigour,

~~~

_ Does it hurt, my sweet? I’m here, you’ve done so very well for me. _

Angel was lying on the radio, curled over the top of it, hugging it like a child with a blanket. 

Everything was soaked in blood. Angel’s hair, usually so pale, was vibrant red. The carpet squelched with every movement. The radio’s glossy surface was slick. Angel blinked slowly, it was hard to think, his head was foggy. He had an impression of pain, but it was so secondary to the high of Alastor’s words.

_ This is the last meal I need. You. You’re the last thing I need. You’ve served me so well, fed me so well. Your loyalty, your love. This is the last time. Give me all of you and we’ll be together. _

“Yes… Please… Take it…” Angel muttered sleepily.”Anything for you. Everything for you. It’s all for you, I’m all for you. I’m yours, I’m yours… Please…”

The mist around him was so thick he couldn’t see anything outside, but that was fine. Nothing outside mattered. Alastor was in here with him.

That’s all he cared about.

_ Can you feel it, my morsel? _

Angel nodded. The words were gone. His hands had gone numb, he’d dropped the knife, but there was nowhere left to cut anyway. His veins were pouring, his skin a mess of flayed skin. He bit on the inside of his cheek and a burst of metallic bitterness exploded on his tongue. The mist caressed his face and curled between his lips, Alastor drinking the blood from his mouth.

Him inside Alastor. Alastor inside him.

Perfect. Everything he needed. Everything he wanted.

_ You’ll be here soon. I can feel you so close. Everything you’ve done has made you so precious. I’m so lucky you found me. So lucky to have you.  _

Angel wanted to say that it was him who was lucky. That Alastor had saved him. That a life serving Alastor was everything he wanted. That he  _ wanted _ this. But his body was failing him and all he could do was run a shaking, pale hand over the radio’s front. His bloody fingerprints staining the glass dome covering the dial.

_ Just rest now, my Angel. You’ve made a delectable last meal. Come claim your reward. _

Angel went. Closed his eyes and felt something come loose. He felt a little like he was falling, but then again, that could be flying. It sounded like radio static and laughter.  He followed his Alastor. His voice in the radio.

Back in the house, his body lay dead over a broken radio.


End file.
